In which a 'young' woman of indeterminate age, acceptable parentage, adequate means, proper standing, and no matrimonial inclination attempts to discover her Romantic Ideal by slogging through every single one of Ms. Austen's fictional works.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Last night Eric brought me a sheet of notebook paper that he, my thoroughly male, camo & cars & sticks & grubby hands child, who loathes writing with a passion, had created all by himself. It had two small stick figures with large heads holding hands and was titled "EricKaiet", which turned out to be his attempt at spelling "Eric and Katie."

He only went to bed after I promised that I would find an envelope for his love letter before morning.

This morning a 5-year old boy-child climbed on me around 6am.

"MOM!!! MOOOOOMMMMM!!!! Did you get the envelope?"

I pointed to the table where his declaration of love was wrapped securely in an envelope.

"Well, could you help me write some more in it before school?"

So, when Eric trotted off to kindergarten, he was carrying the letter as described, with the addition of "Dear Katie, I love you. You're cute. And I like your yellow hair. Love, Eric."

When we got home I asked how his romancing had gone.

"UGGGHHHH!!!! I didn't give it to her!"

Was she at school today? Did you see her?

"Yes, but I just didn't give it to her."

Why?

"Because I was so embarrassed!!!! She's too cute and I was embarrassed. She's BLOND, mom."

Huge 5-year old sigh.

"I hope she'll marry me. I love yellow hair."

You'll have to get brave and give her the letter if you're thinking marriage, son.